


The Darkest Night

by natsora



Series: The Sword and The Scabbard [8]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Phantom pain, Post-Amputation, Post-Tressaper, Whump, bad things happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22065961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natsora/pseuds/natsora
Summary: Corypheus is defeated, the Qunari threat is eliminated, the Inquisition is over. Rest is what Trev is promised, what she needs. So she retreats from the politics and fighting, to recover in body and mind, with Cassandra by her side. But no good deed goes unpunished. And Trev is owed.
Relationships: Cassandra Pentaghast/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cassandra Pentaghast
Series: The Sword and The Scabbard [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1375087
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	The Darkest Night

**Author's Note:**

> _Prompt fill for Phantom Pain - Cassandra Pentaghast and Lexington Trevelyan for Laur_

It was circling around her. Trev could feel it. Howls filled her ears as claws dug into soil. She ran. Her lungs heaved, her thighs ached, but she couldn’t stop. To be caught was death. The knowledge burnt deep in her bones. 

The stench of foul breath permeated the air, rotting and decaying. She gagged, dry heaving. Whatever that was hounding her, she couldn’t let it catch her. She needed to flee, to see shelter, to find help. 

“Where is my sword? Where is my armour?” she hissed angrily. 

Nobody answered, nobody could. She was alone. 

The monster howled again, the sound piercing still air. There, a hiding place. Trev scrambled through the thick bushes and couched low. She could feel its eyes crawling across her skin. Breath held tight in her chest, she stiffened tried to stifle the whimper threatening to spill forth. 

It started small, something that could be ignored, something that could easily be dismissed. But it grew and grew like a fire lit. 

Pain. 

Stabbing, like blades seeking flesh. Searing, like hellfire summoned by magic scouring across her skin. Tearing, like talons raking and rending, parting flesh from bone. 

Trev gasped, unable to hold it back. Her left hand glowed a bright green, in an intensity she worried the Anchor was burning a hole in her hand. 

Looking at it made it hurt worse. She squeezed her eyes shut, lungs rattling for air that wouldn’t come, her body trembling and shaking as she fell to her knees. The monster forgotten, one was residing in her all along. The monster howled again. Her vision went white as she screamed. 

“Maker, please make it stop!” her throat raw with plea. The Maker was silent, he has turned his back on everyone after all. 

The stench was back, the monster near. Trev forced herself to her feet, clutching her left hand to her chest, hiding the glow. She had to go. One foot after another, she laboured to move. Sweat poured from her brow as she realised a pair of eyes larger than her fists were looking at her. How did the monster get ahead of her? Its eyes were so red, they glowed in the gloom. 

“Stay the fuck away!” she shouted as she staggered to a stop. It was belligerence at best, she had no weapon. There wasn’t any weapon that would allow her to stand against a monster of this size. 

A snort of air blew past her. She gagged. The forest went silent, the darkness deepened and a pressure mounted against her chest. It was a solid thing that pressed down on her shoulders. And all that thing did was look at her. 

Trev took a shuddering breath. “Begone! You’re not welcome here.”

Another blast of air. It was laughing, it was laughing at me, she realised. Trev joined in, hers high and hysterical, exactly like the condemned and dying. The monster stilled, mirth gone in a flash. 

She watched, gritting her teeth against the incessant throbbing in her hand. It had spread, she knew without looking. Sharp stabs traveling through her palm, up her wrist to her elbow. It was creeping along her veins and nerves, burrowing into her flesh and bones towards her shoulder. The Anchor was taking over, eating her from the inside out. 

The pair of red eyes blinked, open and close. But what opened wasn’t a pair of red eyes, but many. So many Trev couldn’t count them all. Large and small, all of them red, all of them hungry. And there was only one prey, her. 

Her breath caught in her chest, stuck with nowhere to go, just like her. Fear was a tangible thing. It had hands that squeezed her lungs, it had claws that raked against her heart, it had a fist in her throat. 

Trev forced a breath out and straightened. She was the Inquisitor. She had faced dragons and giants, fought would-be gods and walked the fade. What was another monster?

“I will not end here,” she growled. The words vibrated in her chest, she almost believed them. “I will not! I made a promise and I will keep it!”

Her remembered promise to Cassandra filled her chest with a warm feeling, chasing away the chill of dread. Her spine snapped straight, her shoulders squared as she poured all her will into her hand. As much as she hated the Anchor, it was also a weapon and she’d use it however much it hurt, if it meant keeping her promise. 

Pressure was building in her palm. Muscles and tendons clenched and unclenched as the tension like lightning lit her nerves on fire. A shout barely held back by gritted teeth, she lifted her hand. The glow now lit the ground between the monster and herself. Everything was tinged a sickly green, flickering in and out like a flame in strong wind. 

The monster despite its many eyes was a being of shadow and smoke. Darkness swirled around it like a cloak, shrouding and hiding. It drew back. The forest went deathly quiet. Trev planted her feet, eyes trained on it. 

And it surged forward. 

Black smoke curling around it, a mantle made of the deepest of dark fanned out, fluttering soundlessly as it crossed the space. Trev thrusted her hand out, the Anchor flared in response. And she screamed her defiance. 

* * *

“Trev!” 

Trev jotted awake, her left hand hurt. Fire licked at her fingers, daggers dug into her palm and a spear skewered her arm lengthwise. Tears sprang from her eyes as she gasped, unable to find the breath to scream. 

“It hurts.”

Trev felt the bed dipped and sprang back. Her side once warm, now feeling empty and cold all of a sudden. Something furry pressed up against her side as she squeezed her eyes shut. 

“Maker,” a muffled curse as hands fumbled about for something. Then, there was a strike, stone against stone. 

A red glow filled her vision despite her closed eyelids. Trev’s breath hitched, red reminding her of the monster. Her eyes snapped open to search for it but only finding Cassandra, her wife. The thought instantly calmed her. Her lungs eased a notch, allowing her to breathe. As she laid on her bed, eyes peering up at the wood beams that held up the ceiling. Moonlight cast a blue light on everything. Her heart thudded solidly against her chest, she could feel her pulse throbbing against her temples. 

Trev watched as Cassandra swiftly placed the glass flue over the flame. Her black hair inky dark in the night, loose but still neat despite jumping out of bed just moments ago. Eyes gleamed in the gloom as she turned towards Trev. 

“Trev, are you all right?”

The reply was poised on the tip of her tongue. Trev was sure the pain, whatever had caused it, had passed. She tried to prop herself up on her elbow. But the motion didn’t get that far when another jolt of pain shot up her arm. The agony was familiar, shooting, burning and piercing. And it overrode everything else in her mind. Vision white, her world spun, her gut clenched. The Anchor was acting up again. 

Cassandra hurried over. Dancing shadows lit up the room, chasing away the calm moonlight as the flame flickered. “Where, Trev? Where does it hurt?”

A cool hand pressed against her forehead. Trev flinched, eyes slitted. Agony had made it impossible to think, let alone speak. The bed dipped under Cassandra’ weight as she tried to get nearer. “Cat, get out of the way if you’re not helping,” she growled at Noisy. 

The white cat yowled annoyedly, but Cassandra was in no mood for backtalk from a cat of all creatures. 

“Go! I’m not repeating myself,” Cassandra snapped, her accent stronger and sharper. 

The warm fur left Trev’s side and Cassandra pressed up close next to her, brushing hair from her forehead. “You’re hot, are you running a fever?”

Trev just groaned and leaned into the touch, body shaking as she panted, finding the air to reply. “My arm,” she groaned. “It’s on fire.”

* * *

It hurt. It physically hurt to see Trev writhing in the bed. Sheets twisted around her legs and coiled around her torso like a snake attempting to strangle her. Sweat sheen against her forehead as she dragged breath after breath through her mouth like there wasn’t enough air. 

But it was the cry that pierced the night that hurt most of all. This wasn’t the first time it happened, but every single time it set Cassandra’s heart racing. Her hand ached for a blade and an enemy to smite but here in the bedroom they shared, there was none. 

She did the only thing she could. Lighting the lamp was the first step, getting Noisy to clear off the bed was the next. 

A hand against Trev’s forehead revealed she was feverish, again. Her chest clenched so tight it ached. Questions asked in desperation for something she could fix, something she could do. Answers given through gritted teeth and gasped breath. 

Her arm. It was always her arm. 

She checked, she had to. Traitorous hands shook as she touched Trev. A deep growl was vibrating deep in her chest, threatening to claw at anyone who came near them. There was no one here, just them. 

And Trev needed her. 

Another groan, this one through tightly clenched teeth. Cassandra lifted Trev’s sleeve on her right arm as gently as she could. Her fingers shook, it was intolerable. She stopped and clenched her hands for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she continued. Trev leaned against the thigh she pressed into the bed. The contact was reassuring. 

Cassandra straightened and shifted the lamp closer. It bathed Trev in yellow. Her eyes opened but pain glazed, looking but not seeing. The line between her brows was a deep trench. Her hand twitched and fisted against the sheet. Every jerk, every grimace was another knife to Cassandra’s heart. 

Cassandra had to work fast. Hands running over skin, turning Trev’s arm over and over. There was nothing wrong. Not a cut, not a bruise to be seen. 

“Trev, your arm is fine,” she blurted. “Where does it hurt? Please tell me.”

Trev opened her eyes, one eye brown, the other tainted by the Anchor. A familiar green blended with her natural brown, making her gaze disconcerting to most. But to Cassandra it spoke of Trev’s burden, her struggles and her triumph against them. “Not that one, the other one,” she rasped, voice hoarse from pain held in. 

“Other one?” Cassandra’s voice trailed off in a whisper as it dawned upon her. 

The healers had told her that this would happen. And this wasn’t the first time. But how was she supposed to tell Trev? 

First the confusion, then the realisation spread across Trev’s face like the Blight over good land. Darkened her features, lines etching into her skin and the anguish that came with it. 

How many times could Cassandra watch this before it broke her?

Cassandra shook herself. Trev needed her. This wasn’t about how she handled this. This was how she’d help Trev overcome this. She took a deep breath steadying herself. 

“Trev,” her name spoken like a prayer, hush and reverent. 

Trev turned her head against Cassandra’s thigh and looked at her. She was doing her level best to focus through her agony. Cassandra’s hands reached towards her, gingerly helping Trev to sit up against her, Trev’s back against her chest. Trev whimpered, strength was leeched out of her. Deep lines on her face spoke of pain burrowed deep. 

Trev sighed as her head settled against Cassandra’s chest. Carefully, Cassandra wrapped her arms around Trev’s chest. 

“It’s my other hand, it hurts,” Trev whispered, “so bad.”

“Trev,” Cassandra’s breath hitched, her voice low as if it could soften the blow. It never did. “It’s gone.”

Trev blinked. The familiar confusion stealing over her face. Then panic seized her muscles. She sat up, at least she tried to. “Gone?” she asked, voice tight with urgency. “My arm’s gone?”

Cassandra placed her hand gently on Trev’s right one. She lifted it, hand guiding hand, moving it slowly towards Trev’s left shoulder. Inch by inch, she guided Trev’s hand down her left arm. The realisation and horror was dawning upon Trev. 

“No,” she whispered. 

Then, both their hands stopped. Right where arm should meet elbow, there was nothing else, just a rounded stump and a shortened sleeve. 

Trev struggled to sit up, Cassandra shifted to help. Her eyes raked up and down her left arm as if it could uncover the rest of her limb. But it was truly gone. 

The Anchor took it, or maybe it was Solas who truly rendered the limb too mangled to save. Either way, the healer assured her that to leave it would kill Trev. Cassandra made the decision and she never forget the look on Trev’s face when she truly regained consciousness and realised what had happened. 

Trev was left handed, wielding her blade with power on her left, and guarding herself with her shield on her right. And now everything had changed. 

“But it still hurts,” Trev cried, her voice cracking. Distress laced through her words. “I can still feel it. The Anchor is still here.”

“I’m sorry,” Cassandra tightened her hold around Trev and hope it was enough, that it helped. 

Something dripped down onto her arm. It was warm and wet. More and more came, soaking into Trev’s shirt and onto her arm and down it. Cassandra rocked, cradling Trev as she rode out the pain. 

* * *

Cassandra lost track of time. Trev was unmoving, head lolled against her chest, hair falling over her face. Her back was numb, so was her legs where Trev laid against her. For a brief moment, fear seized her heart and set it racing. She held her breath until she could feel the rise and fell of Trev’s chest against her arms. 

It was dawn. Grey light streamed through the windows. Chill mountain air stung her nostrils. The activity of a keep rousing from sleep faint and far away for now. But it wouldn’t be long Cassandra’s attention was needed. 

But with Trev in her arms, sleeping, exhausted from the night’s ordeal, she couldn’t bear to move. This wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last. It’ll come and go as it pleased. And all Cassandra could do was to help Trev weathered them all. But Trev had suffered through this for long enough, she had contacts and so did Cassandra. It’s time to seek help. 

“I swear I’ll find something that will help,” she whispered as she pressed her lips against Trev’s head. “I swear.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always welcomed!


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